


Love in the silence

by Skyson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Physical Disability, Post-Finale, Skye pov, Skye takes care of Phil, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Season 2 finale spoilers*</p><p>A feels fic following the events of the finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in the silence

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this in a one shot and I'm not entirely sure why I did... had to get the feels out, I guess. There's a bit of window gazing for RosaleeDonovan, too.

She lay next to him in the bed, him under the sheets and her on top. It was really hot in the room to her, but he'd been running cold a lot lately. It was his room, anyway; she could deal. They were quiet in the dark for a long time, listening to one another's breaths. They both knew neither would fall asleep for some time, at least until exhaustion took over. The silence wasn't awkward, however, though it was heavy.

Coulson was depressed. It was natural, of course. He'd been handling the loss so well, Skye was actually a little surprised when she first came upon the realization. He didn't make a big deal out of it, but some of them could tell. Andrew, of course, knew about it right away, being the psychiatrist that he was. May noticed it soon after; she knew Coulson almost better than he knew himself. She was the one who spoke to Skye, and told the younger agent to keep an eye out on their Director while she was spending some quality time with Andrew. Skye took the job very seriously, and tried to be as helpful as possible without hovering.

Turns out she didn't have to worry about hovering, though. Whenever she felt like she'd been sticking around his office for too long, she'd make some excuse to leave, but he would almost always insist she wasn't a bother. It wasn't long before he was asking her to help him with a few missed buttons on his shirt, or straightening (and most of the time redoing entirely) the tie he hadn't quite managed. It became natural to incorporate him into her routine, and after her morning exercise she always prepared them both breakfast and ate with him.

She realized it was worse than he was letting on when she noticed he'd been skipping other meals. His face started to look more drawn, the circles under his eyes darker and heavier. The lines around his mouth curved downward more often than not, and there came a point where she realized she hadn't seen him even smirk in almost a week and a half.

She was here, lying in his bed next to him, because she had caught him staring out of the window in his office long after dinner, long after everyone else on the base had gone to bed. She wasn't sure what had woken her up and made her go to his office; maybe it was just him. She always seemed more connected to him than to anyone else on the base, always more aware of him.

He hadn't said anything when she entered, he hadn't even turned around. It was as if he had expected her to show up. She stood beside him quietly, looking out the window with him. It was dark outside, so early in the hours of the next morning that the moon had lowered below the horizon and the sun hadn't yet risen. She knew he had been standing there for a long time, she could tell by the set of his shoulders, so after ten minutes she carefully slipped her hand in his. When he turned his gaze toward her, confused, as if he wasn't aware of his surroundings, she tugged him gently away from the window. He seemed to come to a sudden understanding, because he sighed quietly and led the way out of the office, his fingers wrapped around hers.

He let go of her hand after they had entered his quarters, closing the door softly behind them and moving toward the edge of the bed. He sat down as if to take his shoes off, but when he leaned over to untie his laces, she caught his shoulders shake, and then his hand was too. Without a word she stepped toward him and kneeled in front of him, lifting his foot to her thigh and unlacing his shoe, pulling it off for him. She didn't look up at him as she set his foot down and reached for the other, knowing he would think that she pitied him. She didn't, of course, but pity would be all he would see right now.

He sat up, resting his hand next to him on the bed, letting her help him without complaint. This was another tell that he was not doing well - previously he would have cracked a bad joke about the situation.

She focused on the knot of his tie as she pulled it loose, not on the despondent expression on his face. Somehow, she removed his tie, jacket, and dress shirt without any awkwardness. She took her time hanging them up and putting the dress shirt in the hamper while he removed his belt and pants. He set them on the edge of the bed before slipping under the sheets. When she knew that he was sufficiently covered (not like his t-shirt and boxers really would have bothered her, but she didn't want him any more uncomfortable than he already was) she fetched his pants and belt to hang them up as well. When she saw that he was in bed, she flipped the lights off and put her hand on the door to leave, and then he spoke the only word he would say that night,

"Skye,"

She understood immediately, and turned back toward the room, approaching the opposite side of the bed. He turned his head to look at her, and she gave him a very small smile as she laid on top of the sheets, scooting in so she was close to him but not touching him. He looked grateful, without actually smiling, and returned his gaze toward the ceiling. She mirrored his position, keeping her breath purposefully slow and even, hoping to lull him to sleep.

At some point, after about an hour had passed, he shifted suddenly. It wasn't a large shift, but it was deliberate. He moved so that their sides were pressed together, and he tilted his head to rest it against her shoulder. She felt his body shake, and she quickly tucked her nose against his forehead, returning some contact without throwing her arms around him (which is what she really wanted to do, but she also wanted him to feel comfortable enough to let out what was happening right now). He sniffed, and she brushed her nose against his forehead, even pressing her lips against his skin at one point.

"I'm so glad you're alive," She whispered , her head leaning against his, and he sobbed.

* * *

 


End file.
